Bandopia: Land of Marchers
by Silmarwen Vanimedle
Summary: The first book of the Bandopia series. Begin here to follow the fearless marchers through the trials and triumphs of living in a land where marching is all that matters.
1. The Woodwinds

It was the great day of gathering.  The first day of Band Camp.  The Practice Field, fresh in the morning's light, was soon to be dotted with every walk of life.  From the eastern lands of Woodwind Woods were the Clarinets, lead by Section Leaders Reid, Liggy, Bell, and Cork.  They were wise, quiet and carrying, with long faces and soulful tones.  Clarinets outnumbered any other group, but held the honor with great character.  A few low reeds followed, long black and silver bass clarinets carried carefully at their sides.  Reid and Liggy, seniors, were loved by all.  Indeed, Clarinets were the most regal.  Because there were so many, those who especially succeeded were revered even more.

          Giggling whispers and hushed scurries surrounded the tall grassed meadows.  The Flutelings were small and thin, the wind rushing their high trills and scales to the keen ears of their brethren Clarinets.  They wore the most revealing clothes (aside from the meretricious guard) and were mostly female.  Once in a while, a perfectly normal male would pass by, and ironically, would be very good at what he did.  Flutelings were cheerful and merry, cute little creatures that weren't ever found mourning.

          The traveling group of Saxophones was witty but exclusive.  The played bright jazz tunes and contemporary ballads, making the noble Clarinets laugh or the giggly Flutelings whine at how that is their favorite song.  The Saxes kept to themselves but still provided a strong sound for others.  Many Clarinets were spiteful from when they wished to be a Sax as well.

          Upon the time of arrival, they all came in their own fashionable way.  The Clarinets marched, Reid and Liggy leading the way, deep wooden melodies floating over the hilltop as the brigade came into sight of the Great Ones.  The Flutelings skipped, hand in hand, short curls bouncing underneath their little Fluteling caps.  Their flutes were what connected each little hand.  The Saxes happily sang, instruments carefully thrown into a wagon full of folders and music pulled by a stout burro.  They rode on the back of the cart, swinging drinks about in joyous celebration.  The Woodwinds had arrived.


	2. The Brass

The clouds roared with sound.  The real marchers had arrived, so they thought.  From the west, were mountain lakes and hill terrain made marching a true skill, came the depths from which brass was forged.  The Trumpets, strong and many, became visible over the horizon.  In a triangle formation, the point of the form was Cornett, the main Section Leader.  The Great Ones smiled with pride as each row of the wedge snapped their horn to their mouths, each one separately together, a great chord of acknowledgement echoing from the far woods.  As they each reached the field, simultaneously each trumpet lowered individually.  Cornett nodded in respect to the Great Ones at the tower and returned to his section.  They then formed a circle, the subject of which remaining unknown.

          But the best was yet to come.  A hunting's call suddenly broke all commotion, the full sound of the French Horn making each head turn.  The French Horns, upon cavalry, hand one hand with reins and the other in the instrument.  They were the only to arrive on horseback, being the superior race they were.  The French Horn's noses had adapted to turning up a few centimeters more than normal, and French Horn freshman learned how to march quicker than any other being in Bandopia.  Two white horses led their parade, upon which a female and male sat.  The male, Hunter, was beloved by many female.  The other, Mellody, was first to memorize her music and last to leave practice each night.  Everyone gasped at their long awaited coming—they simply thought themselves as simply above the rest, and so simply, they became above the rest.

          The Baritones and Trombones came nearly last, laughing and joking, instruments strung over their shoulders or carelessly swinging at their right.  Their faces were smudged with soot from the volcanic ruins on which they lived.  The constant rumbling of the under crust had made their sound big and warm.  Burly and robust, male and female Baritones could carry their horn as easy as their tipped caps.  The Trombones were of a different kind, sometimes lean and dim by themselves, but when put with those of their own, the chords were as deep and moving as the rocks they slept on.

Finally, the breed that held the band together.  They were quiet, intelligent, small, but strong.  It was the tuba that was noticed first and last.  The person under the yellow metal was just as important.  Peaceful, close, witty, and incredibly funny, Tubas added their own taste to the mix.  From the mountains came the brass—the band was almost complete.


	3. The PitPlayers and Drum Line

Over the ridge, from the far caves, came a parade of the marimbas.  A team of three white ponies led the carriage full of orchestral percussionists, tympanis, chimes, bells, and drums following behind.  The players were of all sizes and forms, but all had large eyes and quick fingers.  The Pit Players lived in caverns, where the resounding echoes could repeat their earthy tones.  While the majority was short and nimble, their homes had ceilings of grand heights and depths of unfathomable bottoms.  Any being who passed by the Pit grottos could hear the bright pitches ring for hours.  Two Players drove while a few poured water under the thatched canopy.  The rest rode on their instruments, lazily tapping a few notes here or there, playing a little melody for the ride.

Immediately behind the Pit was most likely the toughest species Bandopia had seen.  The Drum Line marched on from Battery Peak, five snares, two tenors, and six basses all in step.  Their movement was silent except from the constant and steady snapping of the center's stick.  Not a single smile was among the group; dead, cold stares to the opposite object.  With a slight change of beat, every hand twitched and twenty-five more sticks appeared.  The Drummers played a cadence to make the mountains rattle.  Every roll and note was precise, and even the horses slowly began to trot in beat.  They didn't stop until they reached their place in the middle of the field.  Reid and Liggy nodded in respect.  The Horns whispered amongst themselves with tainted looks.  Mallet, the eldest hopped off his place with the greatest of vigor and began to shout commands to his followers.  Pieces of the pit slowly unloaded and the Drummers didn't hesitate to help.  With all but one breed present, practice was almost ready to begin.


	4. Old Friends

The Guard—the last to arrive.  Holding their equipment by the mounds, the females were as fierce as Amazons but as professional as Sirens.  Togas and tunics were of their uniform, battered rifles and sabers on their backs and in their arms.  They were quiet, whispering every stride or so and quickly beginning to warm up.  No one knew of their where-abouts.  Neither Woodwind Woods nor Battery Peaks had seen them.  They kept to themselves, and as far as the band went, that was fine.

The Great Ones smiled with great satisfaction as all was in order.  The three senators waited at attention in the front.  The Head of the Great Ones stepped forward, leaning on the metal ledge overlooking the many sections.  "Good morning," he greeted, silver robe finding the wind.  "I see we're going to have a great year."  The sections cheered.  "I ask that before we begin, our section leaders come forth.  We have matters to discuss."  From the hundreds a few stepped forward.  The drum majors smiled at old friends.

"It's been too long," Reid said, taking Drum Major Sal's hand.  The two males were both seniors, buddies since birth.  Even when Sal was known as Kee, a Clarinet like himself, before his light brown hair turned dark and he was chosen to be a senator.  

"You're right," Sal agreed, seeing the joy in Reid's light eyes.  "I never make it over to the Woods."

"Say," Liggy interrupted, taking her turn at Sal's greeting.  "Don't forget about your little cousin."  Sal smiled and gave the female junior a hug.  

"Now you're a section leader?  Amazing."   

"She turned down the chance to be a Drum Major to stay with us," Reid said proudly, smiling at the soft-spoken Liggy.  "We had to make her one."

"What an interesting way to choose leaders," Hunter said condescendingly.  The group looked to the French Horn, now far from his horse.  Mellody smirked devilishly and removed her tan riding gloves.

"I hope that isn't the way you were elected, Sal."  Sal glanced downward, caught off guard.  "Where's the…preferred Drum Major?" Mellody asked, looking about the bottom of the tower.

"If you're referring to Lute, he's over there, drinking with the Saxes," Mallet said angrily.  The Horns left the rest to see their Drum Major—Lute used to be a Horn as well.  Trill, the only Fluteling leader who could get a word in between giggles, happily joined the Clarinets.  

"Hello, Reid!  Liggy!  Where are Bell and Cork?" Trill greeted.  Reid pointed over her shoulder towards the Trombones.  

"They're seeing what's been going on near the Peak.  I should do the same."  Liggy was left with Trill and her followers.

"Isn't Gliss just the cutest?  I've always thought of him as the cutest Trombone."  Liggy smiled uneasily, getting the hint that Flutelings didn't really mind the music, just the players.

"Liggy!  Trill!"  It was Cornett, one that had always had a place in Liggy's admiration.  The young Clarinet immediately blushed and began to fiddle with her jacket.  "How are you guys?"

"Just fine, Cornett," Trill muttered, watching Gliss from afar.

"Excellent," Liggy said clearly.  "How was your summer?"

"It was fine," the generous trumpet replied with a smile.  "A fine break from things." 


	5. Hard Times Ahead

The youngest drum major called each of the groups together.  She seemed worried.  Lute and Sal glanced to her in question, not hearing what the Great Ones had said.  "There's a problem," Ette said softly.  Jazz, the eccentric Sax leader, still swinging his glass about, chuckled and staggered forward.  

          "That's what I've been saying for years!"  Gliss and Baritone senior Treff laughed along with him.  Reid recognized the seriousness of the statement and glared at them.

          "What is it, Ette," Liggy questioned.

          "There seems to be…well, I mean…"  They all moved in closer to hear the junior's whispers.  "It's the Shadows…they're back."  The group suddenly began to whisper in terror.  

          "The Shadows?"

          "Oh, great Sousa…"

          "I thought they were dead!"

          "Quiet, quiet guys," Sal said, trying to calm the lot.  "Whatever it is, I'm sure it's nothing major.  The Great Ones said something about the Shadows, Ette?"  She nodded timidly.

          "They said they've risen again…and this time, they're going to battle."  Gasps echoed from the crowd.

          "Battle!"

          "We don't have the resources!"

          "Battle?  A war in Bandopia!"

          "BAND, TEN HUT!"  Each senior snapped upright.  The mass behind them began to wonder what was going on.  A cold expression had spread to each of the three.  Sal looked into the dull stare of each Section Leader.  "Everyone, stay calm.  The Great Ones will explain everything to us."

          "All they do is sit up in that castle of theirs, letting us do all the work.  Now we're going to pay for it," a low voice hissed.  Sal sharply turned towards Jazz.

          "Talk like that of the Great Ones is what turns marchers into Shadows," he whispered harshly.  Jazz immediately quieted.  "I expect you all keep your heads.  We've had talk of war before; there's nothing to be alarmed about."

          "Sir, if I may," Cornett respectfully asked.

          "Yes, Cornett."

          "Have you been briefed on where the Shadows have been staying?"  Sal sighed, shaking his head.  Ette cleared her throat.

          "Actually, Sal, Lute and I were talking to the Great Brass One before we gathered."  Sal frowned again, not liking it when he was so often left out.

          "Relax."  

          "The Great Brass One and Great Marching One said that they have seen the Shadows out marching before.  They've been planning for an attack for quite some time.  They're good."

          "Yes, but where are they?  Are they in the mountains."

          "No," Lute said.  "They've been roaming about the uncharted parts of Bandopia."

          "Are we…preparing for war, then?" Reid asked.  Ette nodded gravely.

          "Organize your sections, everyone," Sal said quietly.  "Start preparations for your best horns and best marchers.  By tomorrow, you should narrow it down to fifty of your finest, each.  We'll make final selections for the warriors next practice."  Each of the leaders nodded and left, the senators joining again with disturbing conclusions.

          "We're not ready for war."

          "Not this early in the season, at least.  The show's barely been put together."

          "We can do it; we just need to work hard."

          "You should have seen them, Sal.  It's not going to be like before."

          Bell and Cork whispered quietly behind the more determined Reid.  Liggy was scared at her mentor's strong stride.  The Clarinets, numbering about three hundred, gathered their young and drew near.  Reid's niece, an imaginative freshman named Clare, stepped forward.  Many already knew her name, common as it was, for she was an exceptional player and surely following in her uncle's footsteps.  "What's wrong, Uncle?  I thought I saw Mellody crying?"  Reid sighed, raising his arms and voice to the crowd.

          "Clarinets, please.  I have bad news.  The Great Ones have declared war on the Shadows."  The Clarinets reacted worse than the Leaders.  "Please, don't loose your cool.  Just get your horns ready—tomarrow is going to be a rough practice."  Clare ran up to her elder's side.  

          "Reid, what's wrong?" she asked, rarely calling her peer by his title.  He placed his hands on her shoulders and looked into her concerned eyes.

          "Clare, I know you're young, but you'll have to get ready too."  Clare narrowed her eyes, not understanding.

          "Ready for what?  Who are the Shadows?"  


	6. The Shadows

Reid pulled Clare from the different families joining together.  "The Shadows are Bandopians who quit marching."

          "Quit marching?" Clare said, laughing at the idea.  "Impossible!  It's what we were born for."  Reid nodded.

          "I know, it's odd, but each year, there's one that we don't see next season."  Clare suddenly realized it was possible.

          "I just thought they retired, you know, to start a family."  

          "No, they give up marching all together.  They leave our band and go off with the others.  We usually never see them again."

          "But…why?"  Clare still didn't understand.  Why would anyone not want to march?  It was like not breathing, or refusing to eat.

          "They all have their reasons, but most because they just…don't belong."  

"How are we going to battle a group of drop-out Bandopians who can't march," Clare said, chuckling again.

"Every once in a while, they pull together and manage to put up a good fight for the good lands of Bandopia."

"Sounds like an easy gig to me," Clare said, not a bit worried yet.  His bright eyes flashed with dark memories as he gaped at her.  

"It's not just a performance!  There are many different competitions, and lots of unfair sabotages at night.

Instruments are damaged and often ruined."  Clare's face soon lost its color and she looked down.

"Bandopians can't live without their instruments," she murmured.  Reid, now with a great responsibility, hurried to join the other Leaders.

          "Reid, wait!"  He turned.  "What about Mellody?" she called.  Reid pulled his flat cap from his ruffled hair and bowed his head.

          "Her father was in the last Shadow Battle.  His French Horn was stolen."  Chills filled Clare's young frame.  She would have to participate in a battle in which her clarinet may not return.  She disappeared into the forest, rushing home to find her mother.


	7. A Restless Decision

          The next day was rough.  Selections for the Clarinet army were quick and well-decided, Reid and Liggy being the first platoon leaders.  Clare found herself in Bell's division playing first part.  They all met in the clearing of Woodwind Woods, three groups of ten, each under a section leader.  Reid led them all.  The rest of the Clarinet population listened in fear and anticipation as Reid explained how the woods should be secured properly.  Clare could only watch her mother dabbing at her eyes, her little sister Net still thinking this was a silly parade.

          Cornett strolled through the diagonals of his triangle form, each trumpet straight and stiff.  The two assistant section leaders, Val and Tru, stood at the last line of the wedge.  As soon as Cornett returned to the point, the three of them joined together.  "We'll have to take them all," Cornett said sadly.

          "Even the younger ones?" Val replied, unsure.  "They've barely learned how to march!"

          "We need them all," Cornett repeated.  "Any Trumpet that can march will.  You know we're the first…"  His voice trailed as Tru winced.

          "Don't say it, please," the sophomore whispered.  "I don't want to hear it."

          "It's true," Cornett sadly continued, bowing his head.  "We're the first to go."

          "Not this time," Val sternly remarked, turning sharply to the rest and ordering them to lift their horns.  With a few motions of her hand, a part of a trumpet code, the group began a concert scale.  "Not this time," she said again to her confidents, who joined in on the warm-up next.

          The ceramic jar shattered against the cool rock wall, young children crying out at the dark forms rising from the sparking fire.  Jazz didn't mean to actually throw the dish; he merely let go.  Prano sighed, rubbing his eyes.  "Was that really necessary?"

          "Why won't you listen to me!" Jazz shouted, threatening the wall with another empty glass.  "We can't march the freshman now, we're all going to die!"

          "Shut up," the mild-mannered Barianne moaned before taking one last drink out of her own cup.  "I'm sick of hearing you say that."

          "It's the true," Jazz growled.  "No one wins in these wars, no one."

          Sou, the revolutionary female Tuba leader and Eufo, the equally well-known comic Baritone leader, had arrived at the Trombone camp earlier that evening.  Sou watched the freshman polish their slides with amazement; each Bone was a separate, working machine.  Gliss sighed, shaking his head slightly.  "I don't know how we're going to pull through this.  I haven't thought about war since…well…"

          "I know what you mean," Eufo added, for once being serious.  "Only a few of the seniors remember what the last one was like."   

          "I'm glad we decided to work together," Sou said quietly.  "It seems as if our sections are always hurt the worse."

          "We're like walking targets out there."

          "Marching targets," Eufo corrected, and they all shared a brief smile.

          The screaming of the black stallion echoed through the farther mountain valleys, its thundering hoof beats waking up all from their slumber.  Mellody pulled her tame less steed to a halt and struggled to keep balance.  Hunter rushed out from his tent and took hold of its head.  "What on earth is wrong?"

          "Shadows," Mellody gasped, falling from the stallion's wide back into the arms of a fellow horn.  "Shadows were near the far lake.  I saw them—all of them!  There were hundreds…hundreds of wicked little shadows…" her eyes rolled back and Hunter's eyes widened.  

          "Quick!  Wake up the juniors!  Get horns on all sides of the settlement; there can't be a spot left open!"  The farms came alive and the horns began to resound through the valley.  Hunter took control of Mellody's horse and sprinted out of the clearing.  He would alert the watchmen at Battery Peak first: they were supposed to be guarding the lake as well.


	8. First Morning

          Clare quietly walked with her Clarinet brothren to the practice field.  Liggy and Reid were as silent as the cold morning mist surrounding them.  She and the other only freshman chosen, Woody, held close together.  The vibes surrounding them were of war, and only war.

          "BAND!  ABOUT HACE!"  The snapping of feet echoed across the plains.  Cornett's cap was set dangerously low over his narrowed eyes.  There could not be a single flaw within the section.  "Valve, your toes."  A stern sophmore shuffled his feet.  "Bell!  Bell, will you fix that horn!"  A deep sigh escaped from a senior.  "Quiet, all of you," Cornett quietly stated.  "We're about to go into a harsh battle; it's time some of you started acting like it."  Bell and Valve, the mentioned two, gulped and let their eyes wander in the erect triangle form.  "I said, start acting like it!"

          "SIR, YES SIR."

          Trill hurriedly rushed the Flutelings together.  "Quick, girls, practice has almost started!"  The cheerful Woodians drew needles through burlap and reeds to create instrument cases.  Some whispered while they worked; Trill and her assistant Key tried to keep things quiet.  "This is no laughing matter," Trill said nervously, playing with a bouncy curl.  "If we go to war…"  They collectively gasped.

          "Don't say things like that, Trill," Key whispered.  "Don't say things like that."

          "We're going to be late if you can't get moving!" Jazz yelled, pointing towards the distant practice field.  Prano clutched the cracked reed, watching the horrified look on the freshman's face.  She screeched and grabbed for it, turning white.  Barianne held the young girl's arm.

          "We can't leave her behind," Prano sternly replied.  "She needs a new reed."

          "She's just a frosh!  Let's go!" Jazz ordered.  The donkey was whipped and the instruments began their slower journey to the field.  "You heard me, Saxes!  Get in line!  Left, left!"  The freshman shook her head from upperclasman to upperclassman.

          "Please don't leave me behind," she employed.  "Please!"  Barianne sighed and left her side.

          "Don't worry.  You'll be better by tomarrow."  She offered a meek smile before getting in line.  Prano dropped his head and slowly trailed behind.

          "_Five days of playing still, slowly losing all my will, pray we'll have our water_

_soon__, practice till the rising moon…"  No one was sure where the low brass had learned how to sing so well, but Sou and Eufo lead the parade.  Gliss smiled, humming along.  "Ho, Baritones!" Eufo called.  "Company front, boys!"  The roughly built Baritones fell into line._

          "Bones!  Front and center!"  Each slide was lifted in a single angle.  Gliss jogged along the line.  "Get into your block; the Great Ones will be out soon."

          "Tubas!  Tubas!"  Sou smiled at her small brigade.  Their bells never looked better.  "Victory will be ours," she laughed to herself, seeing the grins on her friends' faces.  "For once, victory will be ours."

          The clouds rolled with thunder as Hunter's horn blasted through the spidery castle.  A calvary of horns galloped forward, leading the drum line behind them.  Tap, lead snare, held an expression of ice, eyes fixed on the switching hooves of Mellody's stallion.  Mallet was trying to keep up with the pit cart, but things weren't as together as usual.  Alarming news of last night's attack from Mellody and Hunter had shaken the drum line up.  No one could tell; the quick shot of each stick seemed as tight as ever.  Practice was about to begin.


	9. Reassurance

            "Well, girls, isn't this the set up."  Sabe coldly stared into each of the guard member's faces.  They stood at a stiff parade rest, flags or weapons in hand, stiff as stone.  "I hope you're prepared for the worst season you have ever seen.  Have you seen the way they march?  Can they actually call themselves Bandopians?"  Evil snickers dripped from each of their turned lips.

          "I saw a Fluteling fall at practice.  She didn't even trip over anything," Rifley hissed.

          "Not that they appreciate us anyway, but let's try and keep our outfit together.  The last thing we need to do is loose our cool…and end up as bad as them."  More devilish chuckles.

          "I can't wait to get started," freshman Silken excitedly said to fellow flag Polle.  They stretched in the far east corner, the other sections spread out along the practice field.  "Where are the Great Ones?  I want them to see how good we've gotten."

          "There!  Can't you hear the Drum Line playing?  The Great Ones are coming out!"  A hush fell over the valley.  The Head leaned over his metal ledge and cleared his throat.  His eyes were on Cornett at stiff attention.  Liggy, Bell, Cork, and Reid were behind him.  Trill and Key timidly looked on.  Mellody and Hunter held their rides.  Eufo, Sou, Gliss…even Mallet and Tap had wandered over.  The Head glanced down to where the female Great One was approaching them.  She smiled, nervous tension hiding behind it.  Sabe quickly ran over, ivory tunic leaving her conditioned feet.

          "Well, I'm pleased with what I see," the female, the youngest and most dedicated, said.  "The band is fantastic looking."  The compliments weren't easing the frowns.  "Did you do as we ask?  Select your best to compete against these…these…"  The female's eyes wandered.  Cornett nodded soberly.

          "Mam, all trumpets have volunteered to fight the good fight."

          "Mam, Eufo and I have chosen our best low brass."

          "Mam, all trombones will be marching in your sincere honor, mam."  

"Mam, the Drum Line has been working feverishly since the season began to perfect each and every step, Mam."  The female smiled again, tears lining her eyes.  She had not been with the band for long, but already felt as if she had raised them from their first horns.  "Here, here," Mallet comically added.  "Mam."  He had forgotten the term always used.

          "Mam, you need not to worry," Reid comforted, taking a step forward.  "We are more than prepared to take on the Shadows at their own game."

          "Mam, we've sewn instrument cases for the band," Trill presented, Key offering their finest example.  The female gasped and took the sturdy bag in her arms.  

          "It's perfect, make sure everyone gets one."  Trill and Key giggled and sighed with pride.  The female clapped her hands and looked up to her colleges.  "First we'll run through the basics.  Forward marching, backward marching, all directions.  Then, we'll need sectionals to be their best.  The Shadows have quite the show planned, I hear, but we've got something better.  Hurry; the day is already here!"  The section leaders smiled and spoke with one another for a moment before parting.  Sabe was left alone.

          "Mam," Sabe called.  "Mam, wait please!"  The female paused and turned, surprised to see the guard representative.  "The guard, Mam, is waiting on new silks for the flags."  The female's brow knit in confusion.  "We need the new silks, Mam; our girls are young and will tire easily."  The female forced a smile and reached out to Sabe's bare shoulder.

          "They'll come in time, Sabe, don't worry!"  The female turned and left.  Sabe wasn't happy.  She turned and stormed back to the group. 

          "We can't survive on torn corners and used tape," she growled.  "GIRLS!  SINGLE TOSSES, NOW!"


	10. Same Routine

The field was filled with noise and concentration.  Cornett's trumpets moved in perfect order while Reid and the Clarinets marched and played with excellent tone.  The Flutelings glided backwards alongside the Saxes, the Tubas and Baritones were close to joining in.  Gliss turned to his group, the ones falling behind.  "Bones, attention!"  Abruptly, each slide snapped up, except for one.  Gliss made his way down the row to the struggling bone.  "Bonette?"  He stopped at the end of the row.

          A sophomore Trombone, dark brown hair tied at her neck under her tipped cap and equally dark eyes fixated on her horn, didn't reply.  Her slide was stuck with hours of practice and spit, and no matter how much she struggled; she could not get it free.  "Oh, for the love of Sousa!"  Gliss chuckled at her frustration and pulled from his pocket a small capsule of water.  Dumping it down the brass tube, the slide released and clattered on the ground.  Bonette, whose beautifully unique name was pronounced Bonnet, gasped and bent down after it.  Gliss began to laugh, the others not moving but glancing down the line.  

          "Bonette, it's OK," he said, helping her to piece it all together.  "Really!"  She looked up, dark eyes relaxing at the comfort of her comic section leader.

          "Geez, I'm sorry, Gliss," she muttered.  He laughed, adjusting his hat.  "It's my first day with…this…this…"

          "I like it," Gliss complimented, running a hand over the new horn's bright white.  "Sort of looks like mine."  Bonette smiled and returned to attention.  Being the only female Trombone marching didn't seem as tough.  

          Eufo sighed, clapping his hands louder to try and keep things together.  Sou watched as well, eyes fixed on the phasing of her section.  "It's getting there," she muttered.

          "No, it's not," Eufo snapped.  "Look at it…they're all over the place."  Treff moaned and stepped out of line.

          "It's OK, Eufo, it's only the first day."

          "First day of what?  Until what?"  Eufo threw his hands in the air, getting the attention of Sal, who aimlessly wandered about, checking on people.

          "Are things OK?" Sal inquired, stopping between Eufo and Treff.  They both nodded and continued to watch the drill.  

          "What's next," Sou sadly asked.  Sal shrugged.

          "Keep going…we still need to work."

          Tap marked time with his heels deeply carving the ground.  His eyes were fixed on the landscape ahead, hands snapping down and up in such perfect precision that often made others' heads spin.  The other snares began to smile at their playing.  Tap suddenly stopped, throwing his stick down.  They also halted and looked to him, confused.  "It sucks."

          "It's great!" Junior snare Cade exclaimed.  Quad, the clean-cut tenor looked down the slight arc that they practiced in.

          "I think it sounded fine," Quad offered.

          "No, we're all over the place.  Basses, you're all over the place.  You, Crash, you're not paying attention to the rest of us.  Q, can you try and accent just a bit more?"  Quad smiled and nodded.

          "Sure thing, Tap.  I'll try."  Cade drummed a random string before listening for the exercise to start again.  

          "Let's do this, guys, we're the Drum Line, we're supposed to do this right."  They all were sad to see Tap disappointed.  Tap raised his stick to start the cadence again, but Mallet suddenly appeared running from the front of the field.

          "Tap!  Q!  Wait up!"  Mallet caught his breath, leaning on Tap's drum.  "Q, we need your help.  The vibe player can't get this one run and it's slowing down the whole song and…"  Q lifted a stick and paused before taking off his set of four.  He was glad to help anyone stuck in his expertise: the vibes.  Tap watched him go and started the song.  Q jogged along side Mallet, listening to the problem.  

          Clare watched Q stride by; she was sure she had seen him before.  Always with a smile, she thought, smiling herself.  "Clare, back in line!" Reid playfully scolded.  She directed her attention back to the drill and pushed the thought of Quad out of her mind.  


	11. The Arrangement

They had gathered under the shield of the steel castle.  The sun was already high above them all and the band still practiced in the rising heat.  The section leaders and some other interested members were waiting for the Great Ones to reveal the purpose of their meeting.  They sat down on the dried grass, catching up on what was lost.  Cornett removed his cap and rubbed his disheveled hair.  Tru had come along, Val still managing the section.  He sat next to her and sighed.  "Battle…I can't believe it."

          "No one here remembers the last," Reid said, dropping down next to his old friend.  Liggy shyly sat across from Cornett, keeping her eyes low.  "I don't remember the last."

          "Who wants to remember," Eufo bitterly replied.  "It's the first day and I'm already losing hope."

          "You can't lose hope," Q said, his charming smile always causing another to arrive.  "It's impossible."  Reid slowly began to grin.  Sou passed around a canteen.

          "Everyone have some; it's too hot."  They all took a sip.  "Here comes the Great Ones."  They all rose, Cornett fighting an attention position.

          "Thank you for taking time out of your warm-up for seeing us," the Head greeted.  "We are all grateful for your full hearts for the battle.  Usually, in these situations, we let you the band handle it.  We've already passed out the drill sheets and music.  If you don't already know, we perform; compete individually, and in sections.  It's how it's always been."  A few seniors nodded.  "Our strongest sections right now are the Trumpets and Tubas.  Clarinets, you're not far behind, and Trombones, only because you're smaller."  Gliss blinked and glanced down.

          "Sir, the Trumpets and I volunteer to compete first, sir."  The Head nodded and raised a hand to show he understood.  

          "Thank you, Cornett, but that won't be necessary.  Things are going to change this year for practicing, and I need everyone into the Band Hall."

          "Band Hall?" Bell said.  "It hasn't been used in years."  A few glanced over to the old building behind the castle.  It was dusty, dark, and boarded up.  Gliss made a face.

          "We're using it now.  The Shadows are using the field today."  They broke into whispers and complaints.

          "The Shadows!"

          "You're letting them practice on our field!"

          "Sir, how could you!"  The Head One cleared his throat and it ceased.  

          "This is going to be a fair competition.  I suggest you move the marchers inside before the Shadows arrive.  We want to keep this clean."  The Head bowed and left without another word.  Eufo, Sou, and Treff immediately headed back onto the field.

          "I don't remember this at all.  It's a trick," Reid mumbled.  "My father would have told me."  Liggy placed a hand on his shoulder.

          "It's no trick," Sal said, appearing from behind the metal pillars.  "It's a setup.  The guard invited the Shadows to practice on our field.  They suggested that we each have equal time on it."  Cornett scowled and turned, stomping off to his drilling section.  The rest of the section leaders parted slowly.

          "Why?" Liggy asked, rubbing her own forehead as Reid began to pace.  "Why would the guard pull such a dangerous stunt?"

          "This is how instruments are stolen," Cork mumbled.

          "We do what the Great Ones ask us," Sal sternly ordered.  The sounds of wood ripping from the Band Hall's door broke the tension.  The members were beginning to file into the old practice room.  "Let's go—we need to stick to the plan."  Liggy, Bell, and Cork slowly walked away.  Trill, fearful and trembling, slinked into view.

          "Sal, are we going to be OK?  Are we going to play OK?"  Sal sighed and tapped her nose.  She immediately smiled again and giggled.

          "We're going to be fine.  Hurry and get the rest of the Flutelings, and don't forget your new cases."  Trill happily skipped off.  "Reid," Sal said, catching his arm.  "Reid, if you want, you can stay and meet the Shadow Drum Majors."  Reid, still stunned and angry, looked away.

          "I don't know.  I don't appreciate this…this formalness, this friendliness.  These are the total opposite of what we stand for, and we're letting them walk all over us."  Sal shook his head sadly and placed his arm around the neck of his best confident.

          "We're just trying to keep things nice.  We're hoping it will save lives."

          "We?  Who is 'we'?" Reid demanded.  Sal kept him walking, changing his tone.

          "The drum majors, the Great Ones…we are all one.  Always, we're all one."  He wasn't convincing Reid.  "Come on, just come with us.  It will say a lot for the band."  Reid hesitantly gave in.

          "I'll do it for you, Kee," Reid replied, using the precious nickname.  "I'll do it for the band."  Sal stopped, looking off towards the darker side of the Brass Mountain chain.

          "Good; here they come."


	12. First Meeting

The Shadows appeared over the far horizon, double the number expected.  They were all dark haired and olive skinned, complimentary to that of the Drum Majors or low brass, but with a more burnt appeal.  In front were three figures, two males and a female.  Reid's eyes fixated on their uniforms: black and gray cloaks and scraps, some parts familiar to the sections.  He noticed many Clarinet leather boots and green, black-stained jackets; it made him uncomfortable.  "They look like…"

          "Like us," Lute said, now joining them.  He patted Sal's shoulder and looked at the approaching renegades.  "They look like us who walked out of the fire."  Reid began to turn around.  "No, don't go, Reid!"

          "I can't do this.  These traitors killed our parents years ago, and they're going to kill us!"

          "Reid, that was a long time ago," Sal comforted, holding his friend with them.  He glanced to Lute.  "Don't get Ette just yet."  The Shadows were getting closer, more intimidating.  "I don't want her to be pressured to meet them."  Reid rolled his bright green eyes.  "You don't have an excuse," Sal ordered.

          "I don't want to do this," Reid muttered.

          "Neither do I!"  The three turned to see Cornett approaching at a steady run.  He lowered his cap and looked out to the coming brigade.  "I have to.  Don't worry, the band's warming up and doing fine without me."  Sal and Reid smiled with relief.  The four seniors were together again, as it had been before, always successful.

          "Shouldn't we ask the others if they want to…"

          "No," Lute said, facing the Shadows, mere yards away.  "No, trust me.  We're the ones these guys want to see."  Cornett nodded seriously.

          "Sou said it would be too much for her.  Gliss didn't even bother to reply."  They quieted and faced forward.  The Shadows stopped only a few feet away.  They could see the two male Drum Majors stepping forward.  They were both tall, dark, and tainted.  The Bandopian's clean, long features contrasted the Shadows' by all measures.  The taller one stopped in front of Sal and saluted stiffly.  He didn't smile while extending his hand.

          "Sal?" he darkly greeted.  Sal nodded and took his hand.  It was icy cold in his grip, even through the Shadow's black gloves.  "My name is Reb."  Cornett looked to his companions.  The next looked to Lute.

          "My name is Art," he said, a little more warmly.  Lute shook his hand quickly.

          "Lute.  This is Cornett and Reid, some of our top players."  The two nodded in time.  Sal gulped and coldly looked from Shadow to Shadow.

          "I thought I saw three of you?  Or, do you have enough talent for three Drum Majors."  Reb glanced to Art, not sure how to take the comment.  "Ours is rehearsing," Sal said, sarcastically comic.  "She'll be here tomorrow."

          "I'm here," a female voice said.  Each set of eyes was on the shorter, slimmer figure in the middle.  It was a female indeed, but her features were shockingly different.  She was stunning, blue eyes and shoulder length blonde hair.  Her gaze caught Reid first while he was off guard.  He blinked, unsure of what to do.  "My name is Harp," she introduced, not bothering with a hand.  "If you wish to insult us, do it on the field."  Reb and Art actually smirked, twisted and unappealing.  "Where are your Great Ones?  Or, do you call them for their real names now, your Dictators."  Cornett's lip flattened.

          "We need to go," Lute said, pulling Cornett back.  "Don't mess up the field."  They each looked over the rough, tawdry group before backing away.  Reid still watched Harp's strange eyes.  "Reid, let's go."  He turned and left.  

          Reb nudged Harp's side, Art already facing the Shadow band.  "We've only got a few hours on the field," he muttered.  "Harp?  Are you paying attention?"  The junior jerked her eyes away from the lean, regal looking senior that had been so interested in her.  She wished she remember his name.

          "Yeah, yeah, I'm here.  Let's go."  The Shadows began to move around her.  "He's a Clarinet," she uttered under her breath.  "Like I was."   


	13. The Night Comes

The band hall resembled a grave yard's coliseum.  Its wide ceiling and dark walls lined with portraits of past Great Ones frightened the frosh until the heavy draperies where pulled away from the windows.  Light filled the dank room, spilling over a cracked step and broken chairs.  Treff comically dusted off a chair with three legs and tried to sit on it.  The others laughed and followed his example.  Ette organized things orderly, what she was born to do, and soon everyone had an upright chair and working music stand.  The complaints were unavoidable.  "Come on now, guys," Ette shouted over the outrage, standing on the step centered in the front.  "Get out your music.  We're going to see if we can run through the whole bit."

          "Wait up, Ette," Sal called, having just walked in.  The three followed close behind.  While Cornett and Reid took their seats at first chair, Sal and Lute stopped at the female.  "We just got done meeting the Shadow Drum Majors."  Ette shivered.

          "Why?  Why even talk to those killers."

          "Now, they're just like us," Lute lied.  "They just prefer to run their own show."

          "A band without Great Ones is no band.  A band that can't work under order is no band."  With that, Ette turned and proceeded to direct the first segment.

          The sunset sooner than expected.  By the time the Bandopians stepped out of the aired out hall, the Shadows were gone.  The field was littered with various papers and articles of clothing.  Reid scoffed as a scarf rolled by.  "Looks like they really have their act together."  Liggy smiled, hanging back with him.  The Clarinets always liked to leave last, making sure everything was taking care of for the next day.  The Saxes were already loading their cart and donkey to head home along with the low brass; it was a longer walk for them.  Tap and Q liked to talk with Sal about how the music was going.  It had been a hard, rough practice.  The Great Ones were busy figuring out show details and how to conduct the war.  Everyone was tired and ready for the night.  

          "Uncle Reid!"  Reid turned, seeing Clare had seperated from the younger Clarinets.  She frowned, seeing he had picked up the old wrap.  "Is that from the Shadows?"  Reid nodded, tossing it down.

          "They can't even keep their…"  Quad interuppted, jumping to a stop and grabbing Reid by the shoulders.

          "Sorry to bother, Reid, but Sal wants to talk to you about something."  Reid nodded tiredly, leaving Quad with Clare.  As he turned, he lifted the quiver-style satchel holding his clarinet on his back.  Clare had one to match.  She smiled nervously, never meeting him before.  "Hello, there, I don't think I've seen you before."

          "My name's Clare," she introduced, withholding her last title.  "I'm Reid's niece."  Quad laughed, shaking his head in agreement.

          "I can see it, I can.  I'm Quad, it's a pleasure to meet you.  Any kin of Reid's is a friend of mine."

          Hunter and Mellody were silent while mounting their horses.  The other horns were already on the mountain trail.  Mellody couldn't hold it in any longer.  "Who do they think they are, naming the Trumpets as the most promising section!  Don't they realize that it's the horns that are bred to be the best?"  Hunter scowled, yanking the reins of his stallion up abruptly.

          "I just want to get home.  If those Shadow dogs think they can break into our camp again, they'll have an angry section leader to get through first."

          "Here, here," Mellody echoed, bitterness dripping from her tone.  They thundered by as Cornett adjusted his cap for the last time.  He seemed the most tired; the trumpet solo seemed harder and higher each time be played it.  Letting out a depressed sigh, he watched the dimming road home and wished he had a horse instead of walking.

          "Hey, Cornett," Liggy said quietly, working up the courage to greet him.  "Your solo sounded good, I mean, since you were just reading it and all."  He turned to meet the younger Clarinet with a bashful grin.

          "Thanks.  It's harder than I expected, but I think I'll be able to handle it."

          "If anyone can, it'd be you."  They both smiled again, looking at the ground.  The darkness had taken over, and only moonlight lit the field.  "I…I don't want to keep you," Liggy stammered.

          "You wouldn't, but you're right," Cornett replied.  "I should get going.  See you tomarrow."

          "Yes, tomarrow."  She watched him go.  Surely the fate of the band rests upon his shoulders, she thought, but how proud she felt knowing that he was their best and no other.  She beamed brighter thinking of how afraid the Shadows should be.  "He's fantastic," she whispered.  "Utterly fantastic."  


	14. With Morning Dawns Hope

Sabe was the first one to practice the next day, waiting patiently underneath the Steel Castle to speak with a Great One.  The morning air, cold and lined in frost, surrounded her bare arms with a chill.  The rest of the guard would start warming up soon.  They were still sipping hot teas and rewrapping their flags.  While rubbing her chilled skin, she noticed a figure moving close to her.  Squinting in the dim morning, she wondered who it was.  A bright whistle gave him away.  "Good morning," Quad happily greeted.  His early smile faded at seeing her disturbed expression.

          "When do the Great Ones come down?" Sabe demanded, not sternly but matching the morning air.  Quad shrugged, spinning a stick on his hand and glancing upwards towards the stairs.

          "I was going to ask them where the spare carriers were.  You know, just in case."  Sabe flashed her eyes back to him.  Why did everyone love this idiot, she thought.  He's too happy and ignorant.  Doesn't he see past these stupid Great Ones?  She rolled her eyes and stormed back to the group.  She couldn't be there with him.  Quad yawned and leaned against the strong pillars, waiting for movement.  The faint warm-up of the trumpets and low brass could be heard through the dawn.

          Reid listened as the Trumpets made their way up the concert E-flat scale.  Cornett walked through the traditional triangle formation, looking underneath his lowered cap at each of the Trumpets' eyes.  "We're not ready," he yelled over the shaky notes.  A few upperclassmen played louder in response.  He passed across a hole.  It was a sharp pain to his confidence, but he kept walking.  

          Jazz walked over to Reid, steam flowing as breath from him and from the top of the jug he carried.  It wasn't out of Jazz's character to do random acts of kindness, as well as easily fired rages.  Jazz pulled a cup from his satchel, filled it, and placed it in Reid's gloved hand.  "Where's Cornett?"  Reid pointed to inside of the wedge.

          "Thanks," Reid mumbled after taking a sip of the warm broth.  "What time is it?"

          "Ten minutes before," Jazz said, watching the sun.  "How long have they been here?"

          "Since thirty.  I think Cornett's pushing them to far…even the Horns are just getting here."  On cue, Hunter and Mellody's spurs chimed with each of their steps.  They seemed tired, but most of all riddled with concern.

          "Day Three," Hunter announced, listening as the Trumpets began the concert B-flat exercise.  "By the end of this week, the first part of the show will be done."

          "Learned," Jazz corrected.  "Far from done."  Jazz produced two more bowls for the Horns.  "Cooked fresh this morning.  I promise you, you'll never sound better."  Mellody and Hunter both smiled and thanked him.

          "Where is the low brass?" Hunter inquired, looking about the clearing fog.  "Shouldn't they be here by now?"  Cornet had now joined them in a drink.

          "I think there was a bit of frost their way," he said, keeping an eye on the two other leaders who continued to instruct.  "They'll be here soon."  

          "Reid!  Reid!"  They turned to see Liggy, who was running ecstatically toward them.  As soon as she saw that Reid wasn't alone, she blushed and slowed.  "Reid," she started again.  "Come quick!  The Flutelings have a surprise…you won't believe it!"  Each of the youths looked to each other before following her to the other side of the field.  

          "What could this be," Hunter sarcastically thought aloud.   


	15. The United Thread

The Flutelings had four large bags at which they struggled to hold.  The dumped the sharply sewn bags, the tops loosening.  Each of the section leaders looked to each other in question—what was in the bags?  Trill appeared, overworked and obviously without sleep.  She held a long tape up to Cornett's arm, nodding and humming, and then looped it around his waist.  "Perfect!" she muttered and scurried to the bags.

          "What is this?  Another arts and crafts?" Hunter said disdainfully.  Trill still smiled and pulled from the bag a navy blue jacket.  Cornett's eyes lit up as he saw the traditional hue of the Trumpets in an elegant coat, fastened at the left hip and a gold 'B' where a pocket would be.  Bandopia would have followed the letter.  

          "Just your size, Cornett!" Trill exclaimed happily.  She lifted it closer to him.  He reluctantly looked from her to the coat before gingerly taking it.  He felt the material—lightweight but warm.  He turned it over in his hands and found on the shoulder his full name scripted in gold as well.  His jaw had dropped.  The rest were equally amazed.

          "Wow," Reid said.  "Trill, Flutelings…that's beautiful."

          "Well, Reid," Trill squealed.  She reached into another bag and produced a jacket of the same size and style, but in hunter green and personalized.  Reid didn't think twice; he carefully tried it on over his thin shirt.

          "It's warm…Great Sousa, it's warm!"  Jazz took Reid's arm to feel the cloth.  He soon had his in wine maroon.  Mellody and Hunter smugly bragged about the color of their purple jackets.  By now, Sou and Eufo had wandered over.  The Tubas had an earthy brown; the Baritones, a stormy gray.  Trill presented the burned gold uniforms Gliss would receive.

          "These are fantastic, thank you," Cornett gushed, still gaping at his new piece.  "They really are perfect."  A Fluteling was checking her own uniform; the Flutes' color was a dark rose pink.  Tap peeked into the commotion and found a set of silver coats awaiting him.  The carriers would slide under them perfectly.  

          "What's perfect?" Sal asked, seeing that the practice had come to a halt.  His eyes widened at what was waiting him.  A glittery, ivory jacket with a sash and cape at the shoulders.  Each of the colors was on the wrap: navy, green, red, rose, tan, gray, indigo, gold, silver.  The ivory reflected them all.  Sal smiled and looked it over.  His name was black.  "These are just what we needed."

          "Just what we needed?" Jazz repeated, adjusting his sleeves.

          "We're already a good band; now we look like one."  Trill and her assistants blushed.  They all shared a smile, laughing and gushing over the coats.  From afar, Sabe sneered.  The guard sewed their own uniforms…different shades of cream and white…this color wasn't on the sash.  She muttered something and returned to their own uninterrupted practice.  No one noticed the lesser.    


	16. Broken Brothers

Everything seemed to be falling into place.  There was a bit of phasing, a bit of cracked notes, and a bit of discrepancy in the beat.  The drum majors were working hard to pull things together, the Great Ones giving orders as to what was to be changed.  By lunch, the third day had been the hardest so far.  Cornett's hat was soaked with determination.  He had removed it and poured what was left in his canteen over his careless brown hair.  Reid sat with his back against Bell's, the both too tired to sit up by themselves.  Gliss laid on the flattened surface, trying to sleep in the intense heat.  The Great Ones had retreated into their castle to prepare for the music rehearsal.  Suddenly Reid looked up through hazed eyes to see a three black cloaks moving towards him.  He immediately sat up, wiping his brow.  It was the three leading Shadows.

          "Don't get all excited," Art said, holding up a gloved hand in defense.  "We come in…peace."  Cornett looked up, not liking the hesitation.

          "What do you want," Reid demanded, almost coldly.

          "The well near the opening to Brass Mountains is dry.  We need water."  Reb soberly nodded, his cheeks bright and dripping.  Reid sighed and looked down, a bit surprised at their nerve.  His glanced to Harp, one he remembered well, whose lightened blonde hair was tied on top of her head in a messy pile.  He could tell she was tired and a bit sickly looking.  

"You declare war on us, and then come over here asking for a drink?" Jazz angrily said, silent until now.  Cornett slowly pulled himself to his feet and handed the senior his own thermos.  It was a long walk back home, and the cylinder would be his day's supply.  "Cornett, don't…"  Art looked from Cornett to Reid and slowly took it.

"It won't go very far, but we only have what we brought," Cornett muttered.  Reid looked at his half-full container.  He slowly extended it to Reb.  Jazz rolled his eyes and turned, not believing what he saw.  Harp was astonished.  Reb took a quick sip before giving it to her.  She denied it.

"You certainly can't live off this," she carefully said.  "Are there no rivers?"

"Not anywhere near," Bell said, behind Reid.  Harp gave the water back to the clarinet.  He kept his gaze down.

"You need it," Harp said quietly.  "To keep the reeds wet."  Reid caught her eye.  

"Thanks," he mumbled.  The drum majors turned to each other before leaving the group behind.  They only showed gratitude through glancing back over their shoulders.

"Those filthy animals," Jazz hissed.  "Coming over here to ask for water?  What do they think this is?"

"It's band," Cornett said coolly.  "We're all in band."

"They're not in any band!" Gliss moaned from his extended position.  "They left the band long ago.  They're nothing; they're Shadows."

"They still make music, which binds us to them," Reid said quietly.  Attention was brought to him.  "They may be black sheep, but they're still apart of the family."         


	17. Prediction

The marchers filed into the refurnished band hall, tired and in need of the second-rate air conditioning.  The fans were run by pulleys and gears, barely working at all.  Sal sighed deeply before flipping on the light.  A bright scream echoed through the ceilings.  The Bandopians were shocked to find that their old hall had been tampered with—severely.

          The peeling paint had been ripped from the walls.  The sound cubes were torn and scattered about the floor.  The chairs were shredded into piles of chippings and paint, red and black paint, dripped from the walls and ceiling.  Gasps lifted from the crowd as they began to stand around the graffiti.  They each began to trace what Ette read aloud.  "The Great Ones will fall before them all…?"  The twisted brows of the tired marchers couldn't make sense of it.  Why would the Great Ones fall?

          "Those dirty rejects!" Jazz outburst, throwing what was left of a chair across the floor.  A few freshmen winced at the clattering.  "We let them use our field, we give them our water, and this is how they thank us!"  A few more cries lifted above the chatter.  Everyone was getting angry very quickly.  A few sophomores grabbed what was left of the chairs and threatened to do some damage.

          "Guys!  Guys, quiet!" Sal shouted.  Lute was stopping the mob from leaving.  Finally, Ette's booming voice lifted a command.

          "BAND, TEN HUT!"  They had no choice but to reply.

          "HUT!"  Sal and Lute took the clubs from the youths' hands and threw them aside.  Ette wiped at her eyes and began taking deep breaths.  

          "We are at war, guys," she lectured.  "War!  This stuff happens, OK?  We're going to play this by the rules, no matter what they do to us."

          "Permission to speak, sir," a Junior called out.  A few more echoed the request.

          "Cade, and only Cade," Ette replied, overstressed.

          "Sir, I feel the fight isn't between us and the Shadows, but the Shadows and our Great Ones, sir."  Several heads nodded.  Sal wiped his hands over the paint.

          "It's not fresh.  I think they did it at night."

          "We're talking to the Drum Majors about this," Lute said.  "They couldn't have authorized this."

          "Why not?" Jazz shouted, out of line.  "Their fathers killed our people; this is just child's play to them."

          "Jazz, do us all a favor and keep it to yourself.  You'll speak when you're allowed to," Sal said seriously.  Jazz scowled and fidgeted, trying not the speak.  "Everyone, look in the back closet for some chairs.  If we can't find enough for everyone, we'll practice standing up.  Are there any stands left?"  A few timid voices replied with "no" s and "I don't think so" s.  Ette moaned painfully and sighed.

          "They should have their music memorized anyway," she exclaimed.  "Everyone, get into the practice arc.  The Great Ones will be here soon."

          "Ette, what about the walls?  It's a little…unwelcoming," Cornett yelled while the others began to line up.

          "We can't do much about it now, Cornett," Sal answered.  "Let's just start practicing and ignore it.  The Shadows have already used the time we've wasted."  


	18. Rage Speaks

The figures cast by the retreating Shadows were just beginning to disappear over the hill.  Jazz's rage had run through the group like a sweet-water river, and now Eufo was gulping up what he could.  For the first time, a new found fire flickered in the athletic Senior's dark brown orbs.  He watched them return to the camps while leaning on the band hall's broken wall.  Jazz was drinking next to him.  ""I say we get them back.  We worked hard fixing up the hall.  Now, it's ruined."

          "You're right, Jazz," Eufo sneered.  "Tonight we go and ruffle a few of their feathers."

          "Yellow-bellied chickens."  Jazz spit into the dying grass. Reid and Cornett slowly appeared from trying to clean things up inside.  Immediately, Reid didn't like what he saw.

          "Are you boys trying to set the field on fire by looking at it?"  Cornett chuckled, nudging Reid in the side.

          "Come on, let's go over to Jazz's and have a drink."

          "Don't start, Cornett, not now," Jazz hissed.  "We're going to get back at those loser drop-outs twice as bad as they hit us."  Reid's smile faded and he stepped forward to try and obscure their view.

          "Hey, Ette said we're not playing like that.  When it's started, it's hard to stop, and people will get killed."  Cornett solemnly nodded and stood next to Reid.

          "We're going to do this by the rules," Cornett added.  "And the rules say all war's on the field."

          "It's already been started!  Just turn and look in there!" Eufo exclaimed.  Reid even glanced back to the door.  Gliss was just walking out.

          "Did I miss something?" the risible youth questioned, scratching the back of his head dully.  Eufo pushed by, taking Jazz with him.

          "No, nothing's happened.  Yet."  Reid sighed, watching them go.  Cornett was equally distraught.

          "I don't like the sound of that.  We have to keep an eye on them."

          "It's just steam.  I don't think they'll be going anywhere."  Gliss yawned and started towards the rest of the migrating Trombones.

          "Good night, guys."

          "Night, Gliss."

          "Careful going home, Gliss."  And the three parted.

          Two torches lit the way as a Baritone, Saxophone, and even a few others crept along the trail out of Brass Mountains.  Two boards slammed down over the mouth of the main well, a forgotten source to the Brass sections but obviously still needed by the Shadows.  The dark skies overhead roared thunder, and a few fat drops plummeted down.  "Is this enough to cover it?" a hushed voice asked.  A few more nails broke through the fresh lumber.

          "I hope this rain doesn't get through."

          "You do realize that the Shadows won't have any water tomorrow.  It's going to hit them hard."  A pair of eyes blinked and nodded.

          "Deserves them right.  Quick, hand me that hammer?"  The exchange of metal was made.  The head of the tool flashed in the light—it was French brass.

          "Come on, let's go.  It's really coming down."  The feet scurried across the wet mud.  The deed was done.  Not a drop seeped through the wood into the dry well.  


	19. Justice Answers

**I've had quite the hiatus, haven't I? ;D**

          The Great Ones rang the great bell suspended above the tower, a silver chime seldom used.  Reid heard it while he was still asleep in his hammock, his family's small tree house just on the edge of Woodwind Forrest.  A few Clarinets were already on their way to the castle, having heard it, and the Brass would arrive soon.  There was a matter of great distress when the bell rang, and each of the Great Ones were waiting for everyone to be present.  The drum line sternly played with no emotion.  Sal, Lute, and Ette were standing at the doors, counting heads to make sure everyone was present.  The meeting could start.  

          "Last night," The Head One began, sternly looking out of his glistening hat, "someone sabotaged our own property.  The Brass Mountain well was covered and now runs dry."  A few whispers spread through the group.  "We do not use this well anymore, but because of the recent arrangements our competitors the Shadows do.  They have no water for today and will not be able to practice due to lack of it."  Uncontrollable cheers lifted up to the castle balcony.  The Great Ones scowled in surprise and tried to calm them.  "Quiet, quiet!  This is not what we wished!  Whoever boarded up the well will be punished for unfair war play."  A gasp spread over the morning crowd and they immediately quieted.  Such a crime was heavily dealt with.  "Sal, please."  The graven drum major stepped forward with few items in hand.  The next Great One cleared her throat and presented them.

          "These were found near the well.  It was boarded with reeds from the forest.  We can tell it was tied with cords from…from a section leader's uniform.  The only uniform missing cords is…"  She hesitated even more.  "The only uniform missing cords is," she began again, "Reid Senior."  The band burst into rage.  They shouted out contradictions and arguments as Reid, still wrapped in his sleeping coat, and slowly felt his feet beneath him grow numb.  His face drained and he began to lean into Clare.  She desperately held him up and shouted out for assistance.  Bell and Liggy rushed over.

          "Band, quiet!" Sal shouted, dropping the frayed, stained cords and broken reeds.  "BAND, TEN HUT!"  Most responded, but some finished their predictions.  "Band, hold!  Let the Great Ones finish!"  The female gulped uneasily and stepped even more closely to the balcony rail.

          "Please, don't get any ideas," she ordered.  Angered faces glared up as Reid barely held his attention.  His eyes fought back salty tears.  "Reid will be judged in court as soon as possible.  These are heavy charges, and…"  She stopped at a look from the Head Great One.  "And the committer of foul play will be found."  Suddenly, the Band Managers appeared.  Heavy men rarely seen piled out of the steel castle and pushed through the group until they reached the Clarinet faction.  Grabbing each of Reid's arms, he was dragged away from the cries of his people.  Jazz broke out of attention and ran after them, but was blocked by the heavy metal doors.  The Great Ones quickly scattered.

          "Band, practice in one hour," Sal shouted coldly.  "Dismissed!"  The group immediately rushed the castle door and began pounding on it.  There was no answer from the prison.  From the corner, the guard slowly watched.  Sabe almost smiled; they deserved it.  Rifley looked in despair.  

          "Is he going to be all right?  Where did they take him?"

          "He'll be fine," Sabe reassured, finishing her tape on the pole.  "Don't worry."   

          "How could Reid do something like that," Polle muttered, walking over to the small guard closet near the end of the field.  She turned around the small shed and let out a bright scream.  The girls rushed over, for the band didn't hear over their own yelling.

          "Polle!" Silken cried.  They all stood face to face with a young girl their age, dressed in black, holding a black flag.  Her hair was pale and tied up.  The face was unmistakable.  Sabe finally arrived past the door, and when seeing the visitor, smiled.  The others stood in fear of the dark flag, but Sabe strode ahead smoothly.

          "Don't worry, girls, she's friend."  They didn't believe her.  "This is nice," Sabe continued, taking the equipment from the girl.  "And you have more?"

          "Whatever you need," Harp happily replied.


	20. The Guilty Reed

Hunter stopped banging on the silver doors long enough to wrap his hands.  They poured blood, and he would need his fingers for the day.  Mellody ripped a sash from her side and tied it about him.  She was fighting tears as well.  Cornett paused to catch his breath and kick the side of the castle angrily.  "What are they thinking," Hunter cursed, a thought on everyone's mind.  "Reid would… would…"

          "Hunter!  Hunter!" Sou shouted, running up with her own behind.  "Hunter, we're a bit late, but the Shadows are blocking the road back to Brass Mountain.  They aren't hostile, but there camps are moving closer to the woods."  Hunter looked up from the soaked rag and then to the rest of his waiting section.  Their bravado was lost.  Cornett pushed through.

          "Sou, don't worry about it.  They've just taken Reid for unfair war play; someone blocked the Shadow's well."  Sou's eyes faded and she stepped back for lack of balance.

          "Reid?  Reid Senior?"

          "Our Reid," Jazz echoed, pushing his way through also.  He was rubbing his bruised hand.  "They won't even let the drum majors out.  I hear practice is going to be cancelled."

          "That's rediculous," Hunter spat.  "They…they wouldn't."  Gliss appeared to the circle, trombone still suspended on his back.

          "This is insane!  We can't practice without Reid."

          "You're telling me," Liggy softly replied.  Gliss adjusted his cap and sighed.  The drum line was still cadencing dronly.

          "Who would set Reid up like this?"

          "When I find out," Jazz darkly muttered.

          "No," Cornett demanded.  "No revenge, no retaliaiton…"  His voice trailed and his face fell into his hands.  "I've seen trumpets have their horns taken for stuff like this…"  Liggy moved to his side and held his arm.  Hunter couldn't bear to see his friends like this.

          "Where are our drum majors?  Why don't we tell the rest of Bandopia about this!?"

          "You know the rules," Liggy replied.  "Band business is done in the band.  Our parents can't help Reid now."  As the echoing slams against the castle door kept on, hiding the constant beat of the drum line, the guard slowly approached holding brand new black alloy and silk flags.  Sabe stopped next to Jazz.

          "Look," she said forcefully, presenting the flag.  "Our flags have been in pieces for days."  Jazz blinked, looking over the material.

          "This is Shadow black," he quietly echoed.  His true feelings were hidden.  Sabe, growing more passionate, threw the flag down.

          "How could your so-called friend set the Shadows back another day?  They gave us new flags when the Great Ones wouldn't!"  The other girls echoed.  Cornett looked up and soberly sighed.

          "What happened was wrong and out of conduct, but Reid didn't do it!"  Sabe turned and headed back to the closet.  They wouldn't return later that day.  Silken sneered up at them as she grabbed the flag and hurried after.  Jazz restrained what was left in him.

          "Looks like they have a motive," Eufo growled.  Cornett, still at Liggy's right, didn't reply.


	21. Tomorrow's Battle

The marcher's didn't stray from the castle.  They camped outside of the doors, the Clarinets singing songs of encouragement through the night to their fearless leader.  Inside, Reid sat in a cold, steel room, with a window carved out of a massive tower's roof.  He watched the stars look back at him, sitting with his elbows on his knees and head dropped between them.  Quietly, he smiled, listening to the familiar songs muffled by the walls.  Suddenly the door opened but he didn't scramble to his feet.  A shadow moved across the small floor, hesitating to stay.  "Who is it?" Reid asked softly.

          "Just me," Sal replied, stepping under the sky light.  "I didn't know it was so dark in here."  Sal rubbed his hands, not sure of what to do.  Finally, he sat next to his best friend, looking up at the sky.  "You don't know how sorry I am, Reid," he bursted.  Reid nodded, sighing deeply.

          "What are they saying?"

          "Substantial evidence, blah blah…all three of us are fighting hard for you, buddy."  Reid smiled, a defeated grin, but still genuine.  "The Great Ones just can't get over the fact…I mean, your uniform…"  Reid almost laughed, but stood and turned dramatically.

          "Trill said she'd fix it for me two days ago!"  Sal slowly rose and followed as Reid paced.  "They know me; why don't they just let me go home."

          "Your parents don't know yet."

          "Good," Reid scoffed.  "Poor Mother wouldn't know what to do."

          "You're fans plan on staying up all night for you."  Reid smiled slightly, leaning against the icy wall.  Sal produced a small note.  "From the guys outside.  I snuck it in for you."  Reid took it.

          "Thanks, Kee."  Sal smiled and disappeared past the door.

          Gliss passed the bowl around the circle, everyone taking a dip with their brass or wooden cup.  They were quiet, whispering, not wanting to interrupt the Clarinets' songs.  They had the smoothest voices.  Clare wasn't quite sure of the words yet, but she and Woody hummed along the sweet melody.  Cornett even played along with his trumpet.  Jazz was the quietest of all.  Q and Tap were keeping an eye on the far mountains.  Suddenly, Quad jumped to his feet and the song stopped.  Over the hill, figures moved in the night.  It was nothing.  "Continue," Tap ordered, not looking back to the fire.  "It's nothing."  Bell started again, and Flutelings joined in.  This time, Tru and Val harmonized with their leader, and Mellody stopped to wipe her eyes.  Hunter quietly took her under his arm and watched the fire.

          "Don't worry," he said quietly.  "They won't get back.  They're not that stupid."

          "Tomorrow we go into battle," Bonette whispered to Gliss.  "Will we go without Reid?"

          "The trial's tomorrow morning; he'll be out by the afternoon," he replied, sipping soup.  "You want some?"  She shook her head, smiling nervously back.  Q poked Gliss in his side and playfully took the cup.

          "Hey, I'm always hungry."  They shared a brief laugh.  Cornett stopped, lowering his horn.  They quickly hushed.


	22. The Defeated

The Great Ones watched from their balcony, sitting in silver chairs and sipping from cups.  The two bands met in the center of the field, minus one Clarinet.  Art, Reb, and Harp stood sternly in front of their band of misfits.  Sal, Lute, and Ette quickly finished organizing the first platoon.  Suddenly, the whistle blew from the Head Great One and the drum lines ceased their overlapping cadences.  The battle was about to begin.  

          First was a group performance.  There would be no notes, but strategic marching style and of course, a drum line's beat.  It was all apart of the unit competition, the first days.  As tradition, the defending band would go first.  Tap started the tap off with two brief slaps.  Then the tenors fiddled a run of notes.  The woodwinds stepped forward and the drum majors directed to keep beat.  A horn ripple ran through the clarinets and they formed a curving ring.  The flutes snapped up to playing position and the flutes began a rotating box.  The trumpets would finish their angular visual before combining the rest of the brass line.  It was all very sleek, sharp, and quiet.  Most of all, it was very clean.

          Harp pulled from her cloak a silver mace.  Spinning it once, the band took intricate positions on the field.  The Bandopians watched in awe as they proceeded to jazz run in a twisting, spinning circle.  Jazz muttered curses under his breath as he watched a tuba pass gracefully between two trombones.  Suddenly, they stopped on a heavy bass note.  With a horn flash and each trumpet spinning their trumpets into place, they snapped into parade hess, forming a perfect diagonal.  Sal's head dropped.  Ette let out a deep sigh.  Their artistic visuals and perfected style was out of their league.  Their instruments may be fixed with tape and string, but they were true athletes.  The Shadows had won the band division.

          On came the guard.  Sabe led the girls into a mad fire of swords and rifles, flags and other various props.  It was a magnificent display.  Sabe even managed to throw five spins and a perfect snapped catch.  The flag's double throws were tighter than air.  As soon as the last body movement was made, Silken let out a bright cheer of excitement.  The girls couldn't wait to congratulate themselves afterwards.  Of course, the Shadows' guard wasn't half as good.  Although the Bandopians used the Shadows' flags, they were superior to any other of their kind.  The Great Ones paused, shocked at how quick the results presented themselves.  Whispering to one another, the Head One declared a draw.  The Bandopians sighed deeply and the Shadows seemed to be uneasy with relief.  The Shadows quickly dispersed back to their camps and the Bandopians immediately turned to why they didn't when the marching segment. 

          From inside the cage, Reid sighed, wondering when he was to be let free.  He was promised a trial, but he was given none. 


	23. Farewell

"Reid Senior, rise."  The Great Ones sat behind their lowered balcony, Reid before them in soiled clothes and chained at the wrists.  The Clarinets stood behind him, Bell silently wiping at her eyes.  Clare tried to keep a straight face, but often had to turn away.  This all happened so fast, and now the Great Ones had Reid's clarinet.  "Do you realize the soberness of this crime?"

          "Yes, sir."  Jazz clenched his fists, growing more and more angry with each question.  The Great Ones presented a stained, torn uniform cord.

          "Do you identify this cord as from your uniform?"

          "No, sir."  A gasp ran throughout the crowd.  The guard began to whisper and smile with confusion.

          "Whose uniform is it from?" The female asked.  Reid looked down a bit, shifting his weight and hesitating even longer to answer.  "Reid, are you withholding names from us?"  Reid suddenly glanced up but remained silent.

          "No, mam."

          "Then you do not know where the cord came from, if not your own uniform?"  Reid shook his head slightly.  "An answer, please."

          "No, sir," he quietly replied.  Bell turned into Liggy's shoulder.  The Head Great One stood and cleared his throat.

          "Reid Senior, you have plummeted your friends and family to a war we wished not to enter.  Conducting in such foul war play is asking for destruction and death.  Because of you, due to lack of opposing evidence, we must now watch our beds each night and our routines each day.  In the name of the Bandopian hierarchy, I renounce your Section Leader title and disband you from the war."  Reid's head dropped and he fell to his knees.  The Clarinets rushed forward, pushing past the band managers to surround him.  Angry cries rose up from the crowd, while still factions clapped for masked justice.  Reid's hands were free, but it did him no good.  A dishonorable discharge from the war was worse than death.  Jazz broke from the group and rushed into the Saxophone's camp.  Eufo merely watched in disbelief.  From the castle window, Sal watched with tears spilling down his face.  A conflict of interest had left him grounded to the steel floors.  The other drum majors sighed and spit curses at the verdict, but Sal wasn't listening.  He only saw his best friend watching his life thrown away.  Reid would never march with the band again.

          The Shadows finished their breakfast and began packing up for the day's competition.  A skinny messenger flew himself across the floor, spouting news of a strong Clarinet leader being banned from contest.  The Shadows let out a glorious cheer and began dancing around their fire.  Reb and Art smiled cunningly and chuckled at their luck.  Harp, a soft-hearted warrior, asked who they might be.

          "Reid Senior," the messenger gasped.  "Reid Senior, the head Section Leader."  Harp drew in a deep breath and stood, ordering that their celebration stop.

          "Idiots!" she screamed.  "He bleeds too, does he not!"  Reb looked up at his younger companion with a distrusting eye.

          "Where's your spirit, Harp," he snidely asked.  "These are our enemies!"

          "These are our brothers," she pleaded, glancing down.  "One time or another, we all played together, did we not?"

          "Harp," Art asked, changing the subject mildly.  "Did you give the Pian guard flags?"  Harp immediately glanced down.  "You did," he answered, standing.  "You also asked that we use their field for practice, didn't you.  And did you not suggest we meet the Pians, begging them for water?"

          "I can't see my kids thirst and starve!" Harp exclaimed.  

          "Well, the Pians can," Reb finished.  "They were the ones who finished our water source, setting us back a day of practice.  I say we attack now while they're down."

          "And do what," Harp spat.  The Shadows began yelling ideas. 

          "Burn the fields!"

          "Take over their castle!"

          "Tear down that hideous band hall!"

          "I won't have it!" Harp interrupted.  "What you do is without my word, let you all remember that."

          "Let's go play," Art ordered.  "We attack tonight, what we're doing, I won't know."  


	24. A Grave Mistake

The show consisted of movements from dramatic pieces over time.  There was a feature for each section included, and quite the series of high jumps in the horns.  The Bandopian band put heart into their show, hoping that Reid would hear it while staying with his parents back home.  The Shadows had flare and style, but not enough emotion.  Their show fell flat against the dramatic passion Bandopia's best gave.  At the end of the day, the Bandopians were tired but victorious, and deep bitterness ran rapid through the Shadows.

          "A fantastic show," Sal said quietly to the group, catching their breath after a run.  He wasn't happy, or excited.  Proud, but not enthusiastic.  "You guys really played well."  Jazz sat with his hands over his face, unable to speak.  Sal glanced to Lute, who didn't know what to do.

          "Reid shouldn't have been sent away," Gliss shouted.  Cornett, silent until now, pushed forward and faced the three.

          "Reid would have made this perfect!  There is no show without a band member, especially Reid!"  Suddenly, others agreed.  The drum majors found themselves surrounded by an angry mob.  The Great Ones, already gone inside to add scores, couldn't hush them now.  From a distance, the Shadows could hear their cries.

          "Sounds like a real racket," Reb muttered to the retreating line.  Art turned to see fists thrust into the air.  

          "Do you think they heard us planning an attack?"

          "Harp said we couldn't," Reb argued, "and I don't think she's in the mood to compromise!"

          "What are they doing?" another Shadow senior shouted.  "They're attacking us!"  The Shadow line turned in horror to see the crowd shifting and growing angrier.  They were heading towards the castle, which conveniently lay in their path.  Antsy, angry, and confused, the Shadows rushed back.

          Cornett stopped at the side of the castle, banging with all his might against its steel foundation.  As the rest of the band circled him, Clare noticed the Shadows were a mere feet away.  "What are they doing?" Clare asked Bonette.  "They're heading right for us!"  Tap and Q turned sharply but were knocked down by a wave of malicious Shadows.  A fist fight had ensued.  

          Jazz and Gliss immediately began separating marchers.  They didn't want any blood spilled, but someone had cornered Eufo and he was facing four tubas.  Freshman fell like faint ghosts, and screams rose up, muffled to the Great Ones.  Suddenly, Cornett saw that Liggy was fighting to run from a deranged Shadow Trombone.  Stepping in the lunatic's path, the Trombone knocked Cornett down, sending his trumpet sliding across the field.  At the same instance, a tuba dropped like a grand piano over it.  Cornett's eyes watered as he heard the crashing of metal.  The tuba was kicked aside, and a shard of twisted brass lay under it.  Slowly rising to his feet, the handsome youth lifted his horn like a lost babe.  The bell was cracked in three pieces.  He felt his stomach turn and his face drained.  Liggy rushed to his side.

          "Cornett!  Oh great Sousa, your horn!"

          The fighting slowly halted as more Bandopians rushed to Cornett's mutilated instrument.  A fragment of yellow broke off in Cornett's cradled hands and he felt his head swim.  Suddenly, Jazz burst through the few Shadows still wrestling and exploded in a rage of anger.

          "You idiots!  Look what you've done!  Look what you've done to his horn!"  Mellody wept uncontrollably.  Liggy watched her own tears drop onto the broken bell and slide along side Cornett's.  "Get out of here!  Go back to the depths of Hell where you belong!  Just go!"  The Shadows scurried like mice.  Harp, a late arrival, glanced over to the crowd.  She, too, had tried to keep her order.  She couldn't feel her feet as she caught a glimpse of the accident.

          "Sousa's lights," she whispered as the Shadows fled about her.  "Have mercy on him."   


	25. Cornett Chases Death

Reid lay by the wooden cot, Cornett's limp form sitting up by force.  The once tan hue of his brow was ghostly, and his electric blue eyes were faded and ringed.  His cap was gone, waiting faithfully at the table on his left, and his blue shirt was fanned open, even though he was chilled.  Two strong hands lay laced on his lap as he forced a weak smile to one of his closest friends.  "Cornett," Reid said, barely audible, "I should have been there."  Cornett began to speak, but coughed heartily, almost scaring Reid into holding his fallen shoulder.  

          "It's OK," Cornett reassured.  "Really, it's OK."  The door to Reid's tree house opened, and Sal slid in.  Cornett immediately tried to sit up, but Reid had to hold him together.

          "Cornett, Good Sousa, what happened," Sal hushed, rushing to the foot of the bed.  "I heard you were in an accident, but, oh Sousa, have mercy…"

          "The trombones are working on his instrument," Reid said.  "I'm not allowed to check up on it."  Random Flutelings were setting trays full of medicine and water.  One offered Cornett a piece of bread, which he graciously turned down.  "You have to eat, Cornett," Reid coached.

          "I'm not hungry, I promise.  Where's Jazz?"  Reid glanced to Sal, who shrugged.

          "Your condition's not sitting well with the band," Sal said, taking a seat at where Cornett's toes would be.  "Fifty-four were injured, but none as serious as you."  Cornett lowered his head fearfully.

          "And my parents?"

          "They're not allowed to pass the field during war.  We told them, though, and they're sending some goodies for you."  Cornett smiled, very faintly, and looked up, his eyes almost lighting up again.

          "Just like camp, right?"  Sal sighed and laughed.

          "Yeah, just like camp."  The door opened again and Jazz sauntered in.

          "I heard you were slacking off," he joked, the comfort in his face leaving as soon as he saw his friend.  "Guess…guess you'll be out for a while."

          "It's individual comp out there, guys," Cornett coughed.  "You should be playing, not with me.  I'll be all right."  He got no response.  "Come on, Kee, there's a band that needs you!"

          "They need you too, Nett," Sal answered, leaning closer.  "They'll do without the four of us for now."

          "Reid can stay with me."

          "That I will.  Go on, guys, it's the Trombones we're depending on."  The Fluteling offered the bread again and this time, Cornett took it with a smile.

          "Thanks."

          "Cornett, we won't win without you."  Cornett smiled again and leaned back.  

          "The day leaves me," he whispered, eyes growing rapidly heavy.

          "Sleep, friend," Reid said, pulling away a pillow.  "Go on, Picca, tell Trill he needs more water."   


	26. The Moon Brings Conviction

The day was over, the results not released.  Every Bandopian had passed in front of the tower, playing their piece, and every Shadow had done the same.  Harp worried the most about the other side, wanting to visit the fallen terribly.  Any marcher battling death was in need of help.  Five hundred Bandopians surrounded the house of Corkson and Bellanne, their son Reid trying to keep things in order.  Cornett grew more and more tired, and as Gliss lead the Trombones and Baritones in continuing to try and repair his horn, the day seemed to fly by faster.  "Uncle Reid," Clare whispered.  "Is he going to be all right?"  They had separated from the group, everyone wanting a word from the hero.  Reid placed his loosened hands on the shoulders of his young sidekick and sighed.

          "Cornett knows his horn better than himself.  The closer you are to it, the closer the pain is."  Clare's eyes gushed full.

          "Reid, he can't die.  Not Cornett—not Cornett, no…"  Reid scowled and tried to stop her from crying.  Cornett had already heard her and tried to glance over his friends' shoulders, as best be could.  Liggy slowly came to his bedside, holding a mug of soup.  Cornett's attention immediately fixated on her, her shy smile making his pale cheeks find color again.

          "From Jazz," Liggy offered with it.  "He had some business to take care of, but he sends his regards."  Cornett took it, hand brushing hers, and she winced; it was ice cold.  "Cornett, you need another blanket."  She nervously reached for one underneath Reid's bed.  Cornett caught her arm gently, and it sent chills through her although his right palm was warm.

          "Don't bother.  Tell me what happened outside."  Liggy smiled and explained all of the great things, Cornett not listening a bit, but watching her.  Reid could glance over and tell that he was 'getting tired', as he told them, and the hundreds slowly headed for their camps.  As the last left, Reid closed the door behind him, promising he would bring more of Jazz's soup.  The sunset hours ago, and the moonlight spread across the bedspread as Liggy continued with the last of the Tubas.

          "Sou was fantastic, Cornett," she giggled.  "You should have heard her scales---marvelous."  Cornett hadn't stopped beaming from the first Fluteling, but he yawned, struggling to stay awake with her.  Mellody's horse pulled to a stop near the window, and Hunter waited outside of the door.

          "How's he doing?" Mellody asked nervously, barely standing upright.  Hunter took her side, making sure she was able.  Reid brewed the last of the outside kettle, lining up cups for those wishing to stay the night.

          "He's talking, which says the Gliss is working magic over there."  Hunter sighed, nearly knocking over his partner.

          "He always does.  I just know Cornett is going to pull out of this."   

          "We need him, as always.  Those Shadows will want to challenge again every chance they get," Mellody predicted.  Reid glanced down.  Hunter jabbed her in the side, throwing a glare.  "Reid, I…I didn't mean…"

          "Never you mind," Reid replied, not looking up.  "I needed a break."

          "No you didn't," Hunter corrected.  "Someone lied for you."  The night's silence broke as a rustling rushed through the trees.  The three and random others turned as Eufo fell on his knees before them.

          "Reid…Hunter…" he gasped.  "Hunter…Jazz…They've got Jazz…He confessed!"


	27. The Hurt Revealed

The confusion on Reid's drawn visage was that none had seen before.  Slowly, the spoon dropped from his hands and he leaned back against his own wall.  His eyes began to widen and his lip tremble.  Hunter glanced to Reid, who was losing grip.  Mellody quickly dried what tears she had to comfort Reid.  Eufo was at the bottom of their concern.  "Jazz?" Reid croaked.  "My…Jazz did it?"

          "He's obviously taking the rap for you, Reid," Hunter tried.  "Jazz wouldn't do a thing like that."  Eufo stood up, wiping his face.  It was written across him plain as the stars.  "Jazz wouldn't, would he?"

          "I'm sorry, Reid," Eufo said.  "Jazz should have told sooner!  It was him who boarded up the well, I was there too.  We…we were behind the whole stupid idea.  I'm…I'm sorry…"

          "Sorry?" Reid echoed, voice faint and disappearing.  Soon it caught itself with a fury even the Saxophones cowered at.  "You say you're sorry!?  Do you realize what you've done!"  Reid suddenly thrust the kettle aside, soup pouring out across the front steps.  "One of my best friends is battling death in there!"  

          Inside, Liggy stood up at the clatter.  "What is it?" Cornett asked.  "What happened?"  Liggy rushed outside to find Reid shouting with no remorse.  Eufo looked as if he were to collapse.  

          "Reid, no!"  Liggy thrust her arms onto Reid, holding him back.  Fury still throbbed from his eyes.  Eufo fell back, weeping.

          "Please, no, we didn't mean to hurt you, Reid!  We didn't mean for Cornett to die!"  

          "Eufo, go!" Liggy shouted, still struggling to contain Reid.  "Just go!"  Eufo scrambled to his feet and scurried into the night.  Reid fought for a moment or two to chase him, but soon surrendered in her grasp.  "Reid, Reid Senior!  Stop it!  This isn't you!"  Reid softened even more, and pulling from her hold softly, he turned to her, head slumped.  Hunter and Mellody slowly covered each of his sides.

          "Come on, Reid," Mellody said quietly.  "Inside.  Cornett's wanting to know what you just did."  Reid unsteadily swaggered back inside.  He moved straight to his room by habit, and then to Cornett's bedside.

          "Reid, what happened out there?" Cornett asked optimistically, looking more alive than ever.  Reid smiled at his friend's progress, shaking his head slightly as the grin faded.

          "Cornett…" he began, sitting on his own cot.  "Cornett, Jazz was the one…"  He stopped, his eyes had fallen again.  Liggy, Hunter, and Mellody watched Cornett's face, still and unchanging.  With sudden surprise, Cornett reached out to his friend's resting arm and cleared his broken throat.

          "I know, Reid."  Reid gave his deepest sigh and let his shoulders drop.  "It's…it's OK."

          "Cornett you won't be the first--" Hunter started, but Mellody stopped him.

          "I know what he's done," Cornett repeated, stronger.  "And I know what it can bring.  But we forgive him."  Reid looked up, vibrant eyes peering out over his folded wrists.  "We forgive him." 


	28. Peace Be With You

It was a new day, hot and thick.  

"Due to previous arrangements, we will now hear Reid Senior play…late."

Reid tightened his ligerature, stepping to the middle of the field.  His piece was ready, after a quick run through at home, he drew a deep breath and played for Cornett.  The Shadows were watching from the sidelines and Bandopia from the opposite end zone.  Silence fell over them all as Reid played, every ear bending at his blooming talent.  Most intent and alert was Harp, who listened with complete awe.  Watching the thin, pale Reid play with what little strength he had left broke her heart, and a tear slid to the collar of her black cloak.  The melody fell and rose, turned and faded.  With a deep sigh of fatigue, Reid pulled the mouthpiece from his worn lips and waited.  Nothing—not a whisper.  Harp began to clap, very slowly, but strong enough to ignite an applause from the Bandopians.  The Shadows looked at her in shock, not sure what her tactic was.  It was her own pure emotion, and the Great Ones gave a standing ovation.  There, in their cold souls, they realized the hurt they had caused.  It was quick, it was deep, and most of all it was all musicians present.  From inside the steel prison, Jazz wept.  The Head raised his hands to quiet them but the crowds rushed the center field.  Reid was embraced by the Bandopians, Sal and Hunter being the first to reach the tired performer.  

"We officially declare this war to be over.  Victory is in peace."  As the throng split, Harp approached Reid with a newfound respect.  The Shadows held back, but she didn't care.  She extended a hand with a faint smile.

"It was beautiful," she sighed.  He leaned on Hunter's side, still weak from not playing for so long.  Slowly and reluctantly, the Shadows began to retreat.  Harp turned back to them, wiping at her eyes and watching them linger enough for her to see.  "I have to go…"

"Come back," Reid managed to stutter.  She smiled and ran back to her band.  Sal shook his head.

"Not an hour ago they wanted to tear us apart…"

"Music is but universal apology," Mellody sobbed happily.

"That was no apology; that was a masterpiece."  The Bandopians shared a lost laugh and dried their tears.  Suddenly, a freshman's anxious cries came from the back.

"Help!  Help!  The Trombones have finished Cornett's trumpet, but he's not responding!"  What little color left in Reid's face drained.  He frantically pushed through his friends and sprinted homeward.  Like an unruly avalanche, the band followed.  


	29. A Brighter Day

Reid burst into his old bedroom, Cornett coughing and struggling to sit in the darkness around his bed.  Bonette and Trill held his horn in their arms, the dented metal tarnished but straight once again.  Reid, frantic and growing hysterical, flung himself to his friend's side, Sal quickly following.  "Cornett, it's your trumpet!" Reid said, grabbing the small horn.  "They've fixed it!"  Cornett slowly looked to his dear companion, the shadow of a ghost in his thin, defeated face.  Liggy couldn't bear to see the pain upon his features.

          "I'm so happy it's ready," he managed to moan.  "I just wish I could play it for the war…"

          "The war's over," Sal happily proclaimed.  "Reid's performance ended it!"  Cornett smiled and reached out to hug the humble Clarinet.  Immediately, the strength found him.  Before their eyes, a miracle took place.  The trumpet began to glow, not dimly, but with a new found light.  The gold reflected in Cornett's glazed eyes, and the metal had smoothed to new.  His unsteady hands took it, and placing the mouthpiece to his lips, played a note so grand, solid, and pure brass that a sigh ran through the crowded room.  They cheered with relief and happiness.

          "Thank you, Reid," Cornett gushed.  "Thank you for ending this all."

          Tomorrow's morning, the Saxophones made stew for all.  Jazz was released by plea of the band, and once again all was perfect in the land of Bandopia.  They danced and played, rejoicing that all fighting was through.  The Shadows would not dare challenge them again…but one did return.  Harp appeared during the celebration, shy and unwanted, but she explained she must see that the trumpet was all right.  Reid welcomed her graciously, however, and he was first to introduce her to the rest of his friends.  

          "I never meant for this to escalate so far," she sorrowfully mumbled.  "I thought we'd march, earn some respect, and then finally find a place that we could stay."

          "It never means to get anyone hurt," Reid replied, glancing over to the place where Cornett sat.  He was still weak, but able to walk to the field and watch the fun.  His cap was once again upon his head as always, a friendly smile beaming beneath it.  

          "I hope one day, those who chose to be under a director and those who don't can get along one day."

          "Me too."  They shared a nervous grin before Reid pulled his Clarinet from the case upon his back.  Everyone called out in encouragement as he took the center of the field.  Jazz was there with him, and they played like old times, their favorite tunes to Q and Tap on the old trap sets.

          Bandopia—a place of music, a place of passion.  Every creature under its open skies and melodious wind lives for one purpose only.  They walk each day knowing that they have a gift, and always being aware of this talent, they perform to the best of their ability; this is their eternal thanksgiving.  Marching is the blood that ran through them, the air they breathed, and in the end, it was the single thread of unity that saved them from turning against one another.  They return to harmony because of music, and no matter what obstacles they may face, they always will.  They are rare, they are dedicated, they are born to play.  It is this world we live in: Bandopia, land of marchers.


End file.
